


Allura Means Myrtle, Part 1

by gostaks



Series: Allura Means Myrtle [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU of some sort not exactly sure what sort, Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Gen, Pre-Canon, retelling of the story of Esther
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 14:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18095819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gostaks/pseuds/gostaks
Summary: Allura agrees to an arranged marriage, one she couldn't want less.





	Allura Means Myrtle, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/gifts).



> Hello Kass! I'm so excited to be your Purimgifts author this year. I've written some Voltron fic before, but incorporating the Purim story turned out to be a bit of a challenge! I hope the result is something you like :D
> 
> The premise of this fic is, essentially, that Allura ends up through vague diplomatic mumbo-jumbo in an arranged marriage with Zarkon. I ended up cutting some details so I could sneak in under the word limit and I pulled some of my favorite tidbits from the Talmud (like the fact that one interpretation of Esther also being called Hadassah is that she had "green" skin, something that Allura can actually pull off!)

“Are you sure there is no other way?”

“Allura,” Alfor met her eyes, “I wouldn’t ask this of you if I believed there were a better choice. _Any_ other choice.”

Allura closed her eyes, forcing her face to stay smooth and neutral, “I know.” She took a deep breath, “An arranged marriage is part of my duty to Altea.”

“I will not order you to do this.”

“No. This alliance could save our people. I can’t risk that.” No matter how much she wanted to run screaming.

Alfor rested his hand on Allura’s. “Thank you, daughter.” He cleared his throne and turned to his aide, “Coran, I am detaching you to work with Allura. You will be her contact outside of the palace. Make whatever arrangements you must.”

“Yes, sir. It is an honor to serve.” As soon as Alfor turned away, Coran flashed a grin at Allura, his mustache twitching. At least she would have Coran. 

* * *

 

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Allura sat in the shuttle, one knee pulled up to her chest. She’d pulled a tuft of hair over her shoulder and was running her fingers through it, over and over.

Coran rotated the pilot’s chair to face her, “We can still turn back, Princess.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Princess, may I offer you a word of advice?” Coran leaned forward and pulled the tuft of hair gently from her fingers, laying it back with the rest, like she was still a child, “Don’t give Zarkon your whole identity. Hold something back. Something for yourself.”

“Like what?”

“You’ll find something.”

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t want any makeup, child?” Hegai asked, his voice sickly sweet. “If you don’t make yourself pretty, Zarkon will never choose you as his queen.”

Allura grimaced, “I’m sure.”

“At least cover up those blemishes on your face, sweetheart.”

Allura’s hands flew to her cheeks, “I can’t—“ She paused. Could she? She didn’t have to give him her whole identity. She closed her eyes and focused. The change in the color of her skin rolled up from her toes to her crown, a wave of slimy cold. Allura looked at her hands, the chromatophors reflecting a deep green. “Do you have paint to match this?”

Shock crossed Hegai’s face before he replaced it with a smile, “Dear, why didn’t you tell me you could do that before? Green suits you.” He turned to his cabinet of makeup.

Two rough smears later, Allura’s cheeks were as green as the rest of her and she was fending off Hegai’s attempts to get her to wear bright red eyeshadow. The man really did have no taste.

* * *

 The effort of keeping her skin green pressed down on Allura’s shoulders as she was swept into the throne room. As the grand doors hissed open, habit straightened Allura’s spine. Behind her, a mechanical voice announced, “The Princess Allura,” but she hardly heard it. Her eyes were focused only on the throne.

Zarkon, up close, was huge. His species tended to be large, but Zarkon was more than that. He stood half again Allura’s height, and even seated in a heavy throne he towered. The effect was magnified by a subtle slant to the throne room floor, placing Zarkon above everyone in the room.

Allura crossed the floor in precise steps and stopped a perfect three paces from the throne. She nodded to Zarkon, not a millimeter more than was expected from the heir to a sovereign nation. “My lord.”

Behind her, Hegai hissed, “Turn around for him.”

Allura did, slowly, raising her arms above her head. The sheer dress Hegai had insisted she wear draped uncomfortably close to her skin. For Altea, she reminded herself. For Altea.

She faced the throne again, arms still above her head, posing like Hegai had shown her.

Zarkon’s voice rumbled across the room, “Dance for me.”

For Altea.

* * *

 Hegai walked with Allura to the end of the throne room before taking her hands gently in his. “Sweetling, it was an honor to serve you.” The doors hissed open. On the other side was a fuzzy Galra, wearing no armor, “This is Shaashgaz, he’ll be taking care of you from now on.” He stepped forward and hugged Allura. She did not squirm.

Shaashgaz bowed deeply, “Your majesty. I will show you to your new rooms.”

The newly minted Galra Empress Allura followed, silent.

As soon as the doors hissed shut in her new, more luxurious room, Allura let her skin fade back to brown, let her hair spring back into its natural coils. The feeling of sliminess faded immediately, but not entirely. She wanted to bathe. She wanted to cry.

She started a systematic search for the little bag of keepsakes she’d brought from Altea. She found it tucked neatly under the bed. Most of the bag’s contents were just junk, jewelry and stones and a photo album. Allura focused on the single holoframe. She moved her fingers in a precise pattern around the frame, following the gilt spirals.

The holo, a snap of Allura as an infant with her mother and father, faded out. The screen rested, blank and greenish, for three long ticks.

Coran’s face flicked to life above the frame, grainy from the scrambled signal but still him. “Princess?”

The tears Allura had been holding back flooded out all at once. “Coran. Oh, Coran, he chose me.”

“He…” Coran’s face fell as he made the connection. A tinny beeping was coming from Coran’s side of the connection. “Coran, what is it?”

“I’m detecting two ships coming in fast near the equator of the Shushan. Should I call this in, Princess?”

“Small ships?”

“Yes, too small to cause much damage, I think.”

“Let the Galra know. We need as many favors as we can get.”

Coran gave a snappy nod and his face vanished.

Allura, alone now, went to wash the green from her pores.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Pidge, admittedly, doesn't have much to do with our ongoing story. I just wanted to include some Hamentashen and Pidge seemed like the kind of character who might abscond with a plate of fresh-baked cookies :D
> 
> See you tomorrow!


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